


Free

by Vive_la_republique



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-19
Updated: 2016-03-19
Packaged: 2018-05-27 16:30:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6291778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vive_la_republique/pseuds/Vive_la_republique
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Final Battle songfic</p>
            </blockquote>





	Free

YOU AT THE BARRICADES LISTEN TO THIS!

He could never back down. He would fight as long as the people of France were crushed under the boot of the Winter King. He would not bow before the National Guard, would not listen to their pleas and threats. If he was to be a martyr for his country, so be it. Even at the end, he will not listen to the traitors as they fight for the interests of one man and one alone. 

He may be here, pressed against the back wall of the Musain, faced with a twelve-man firing squad, but he will not abandon his cause now. He could never back down. 

THE PEOPLE OF PARIS SLEEP IN THEIR BEDS!

He still believes the people of Paris will rise up. Maybe they are not ready now, maybe they won't be ready for years, but one day they will fight back, conquer their oppressors and rule themselves. As one people. As one Republic.

His flag is riddled with bullet holes, but he hoists it higher anyway. This flag will one day call the people of Paris to arms, and they will follow the call. He still believes the people of Paris will rise up. 

YOU HAVE NO CHANCE! 

He never doubted the cause. In his mind, they always had a chance. Even as he stands against that wall, even as the soldiers announce that he is the leader, the one they've been looking for, a small part of him still believes someone has escaped, someone who will carry their banner high and bring their dreams to fruition, even if he himself is not there to see it. 

He meets the gaze of the captain, unflinching. The mere glimpse of hope, of the carrying on of their cause, is enough to restore the courage to his movements, enough to mock the soldiers with his words. "Shoot me," he spits. Someone else will take my place, he adds silently. He never doubted the cause. 

NO CHANCE AT ALL!

He stands defiant to the end. He's firmly resolved to be a martyr now, to go down in history as someone who sacrificed himself for the noblest of causes, as someone who served his country and the people until a bullet stole the life from him with a single blow and a loud discharge. He has no chance at all to live, and he's accepted his fate. Still, he stands strong. 

They ask him if he wants his eyes bandaged. He haughtily refuses. He will not give in that easily. If they're going to kill him, they'll have to look him in the eyes first. He stands defiant to the end. 

WHY THROW YOUR LIVES AWAY? 

His friends were with him until the last. He wishes they weren't. He knows it was their cause, their choice to fight, but it still feels like his fault, and when he glances at the dead eyes of Feuilly, shot in the back, when he glances at Courfeyrac's hat, shot clean through, when he glances at the tell-tale traces of blood on the floor from God-knows-who, he feels the urge to vomit. His friends are dead and gone. And it's all his fault. 

When the soldiers ask him if he shot the artillery sergeant, he says yes, but the guilt and pain in his voice is not for that man. It's for his friends. His friends who will talk of revolution no more, who will lie cold and dead beneath the ground in a matter of days. His friends were with him until the last. 

LET US DIE FACING OUR FOES!

His death will make a difference. He will not die a coward, someone who hid behind his money for his entire life and let the poor rot in the streets. He tried, he tried so hard, and he's dying alone, sure, but at least he's dying for something. 

He remembers vaguely what he said to Grantaire once, that the man was incapable of believing, thinking, living, or dying. He wonders where the drunkard is now. Hopefully not here. This is not Grantaire's place to die...

But it is his. His death will make a difference. 

MAKE THEM BLEED WHILE WE CAN!

He wonders if the soldiers feel regret. The soldier taking aim at him right now is his cousin's age. They could be brothers, but instead they're on different sides of a bayonet. Just as they're about to order the squad to shoot, a loud voice comes from the back of the room. "Vive la République! I am one of them!" 

His eyes widen. Grantaire? Grantaire the cynic, Grantaire the drunkard, Grantaire the antagonizer, come to die for the Republic? This is not his place. He will make a mockery of it all, ruin everything...but the look in the artist's eyes is sincere. He wonders if the soldiers feel regret. 

MAKE THEM PAY THROUGH THE NOSE!

"Vive la République!" Grantaire's cry is full of the passion and potential the man has been lacking for years. "Two at one shot," the cynic laughs. 

He is shocked Grantaire can laugh at a time like this, but it gives him hope at the same time. He will not die alone. Though this is not Grantaire's fight, the man came to die, and now they both will stand united in defiance against the soldiers. Vive la République. 

MAKE THEM PAY FOR EVERY MAN!

No hesitation. Grantaire strides over to him and interlocks their fingers, relieved when he squeezes back. In a quiet voice, unsure, Grantaire whispers, "Do you permit it?"

He is shocked. Grantaire is asking permission to die with him? Perhaps what the others said was true after all...but no time for that now. He simply nods and holds the cynic's hand tighter as they both straighten their backs and stare coldly at the National Guard. No hesitation. 

LET OTHERS RISE...

Others will rise. Maybe not today, maybe not in such a tangible way as Grantaire, but they will. He takes Grantaire's hand and raises the flag higher. He is ready to die. 

The captain of the Guard yells, "Ready!" He lifts his chin up high, his face like stone. Others will rise. 

TO TAKE OUR PLACE...

He is glad he's not alone, in the end. He does not know what Grantaire's reasons for dying with him are. He isn't sure he wants to. He simply enjoys the companionship in his final moments. 

The captain yells, "Aim!" and he knows this is the end. He is glad he's not alone, in the end. 

UNTIL THE EARTH IS...

Stand strong. Make them feel like the cowards they are. Stand strong. Vive la République. Vive l'avenir. Vive la France. Bahorel, Jehan, Éponine, Gavroche, Bossuet, Joly, Feuilly, Courfeyrac, Combeferre. It wasn't supposed to turn out this way. See you on the other side. 

And Grantaire...thank you. Thank you for standing strong. Thank you for being here. 

"Fire!" Stand strong. 

FREE! 

Free. Free. Freedom is coming...free. 

His body hangs out of the café window, crimson blood spilling onto his face and drenching his golden hair in gore. But, in his soul, Enjolras is finally free.


End file.
